


And Then You Say, "I . . ."

by NarryEm



Series: 1989 Inspired songfics [10]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Multi, Non-Explicit Sex, Schmoop, Songfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's implied somewhere along the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/NarryEm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night, Zayn is walking home and it’s just his luck that his body burning up with fever.  Luckily, a teenager named Niall finds him and nurses him back to health.  Despite the glaringly obvious age gap between them, Zayn can’t resist the innocent allure that Niall exudes and, well, read the story to see what happens!</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then You Say, "I . . ."

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by/loosely based upon this manga I read called _Otokogokoro_ (Kanda Neko draws the cutest yaoi manga!), where one of them is 15 years older than the other and they set out to have one of the cutest relationships ever. I also drew inspirations from "How You Get The Girl" by Taylor Swift. It wasn’t necessarily the lyrics per se but more of the general impressions/emotions I felt from listening to it.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do use some of the scenes/lines directly from the manga that I do not own.

 

Zayn can feel his body burning up as he leans against the post lamp. The fever was probably brought upon by overworking for the past few days and it really is his fault for putting his work above his health.

“Shit,” he mutters when his vision starts to go fuzzy. Is he . . . ?

He thinks that he sees a figure haloed with golden light before his vision blacks out.

 

 

-

 

 

Zayn wakes to a view of a plaintive ceiling and a thin mattress pressing against his back. He sits up gingerly and winces at how his entire body throbs a bit and his head still feels a bit fuzzy.

Oh right, he had a fever or something and passed out last night, didn’t he? He can’t recall much of last night or how he landed himself in this situation.

“Great, you’re awake!” a cheerful voice says from a little ways away. When Zayn turns his eyes towards the voice, he sees a small blond boy with a tray of breakfast foods. “You passed out as I was walking by so I thought I’d better bring ya home and take care of ya. You were out for a day and a half and running a high fever the entire time. So glad to see you doing better. I’m Niall, by the way.” First fact about Niall that Zayn latches onto is the fact that the kid’s got a strong Irish accent and he suits it well. And when Niall smiles Zayn thinks that the innocent, bright-eyed smile reminds him of a sunny day.

“Thanks, kiddo,” Zayn says, his voice husky from lack of use. “Not a lot of people would have done that.”

“Really? I don’t think people are all cold-hearted and would leave a sick person on the side of the road,” Niall’s brows furrow in confusion. Damn, he looks so cute and young; he possibly cannot be older than seventeen or eighteen.

“I’m Zayn,” Zayn says belatedly. “You live alone?”

Niall nods. He sets down the tray on the bedside table and sits on the edge of the bed close to Zayn. “I’m second year at University of London. Had to move from Ireland for it but it’s really worth it. London is so great and the lights are always blinding, don’t you think?”

Zayn ponders that. He moved to London about ten years ago and he remembers feeling the same way about having the big wide city to himself and feeling like he was alone in it. “I suppose. Wait, you’re a second year? How old are you?”

Niall pouts, resembling a disgruntled pup. “I’m eighteen, _excuse_ you. Why do people always assume I’m younger than I actually am?” he complains.

Zayn laughs and winces inside immediately. Whatever nasty sickness he’s caught is messing with his body. “You’re adorable, which is not a bad thing.” He reaches out to pet the top of Niall’s head, noting the darker roots. So he dyes his hair. “Y’know, you might look a bit older without the blonde hair. I dunno.”

The older man retracts his hand and sits up to take a bite of the scrambled eggs and nearly moans at the taste of it. He hasn’t realised just how hungry he is. He finishes the meal in less than five minutes and when Niall hands him a cuppa of Yorkshire tea, he smiles as he is reminded of Louis’—one of his colleagues and also his closest mate—obsession with the tea.

Something blond suddenly moves in front of Zayn and he realises that Niall is leaning in towards him. A cool hand touches his forehead and he hears Niall mutter, “Still hot.”

To Zayn, he says, “You should get more rest. Fever’s gone down considerably but you are still ill, I can tell. I gotta go get ready for classes now, though. Can you manage being by yourself for the next six hours?”

Zayn nods. “I’ll sleep through most of it anyways. Thanks again.”

Out of a childish impulse, Zayn grabs Niall’s wrist and pulls him in so that he can press his lips to Niall’s for a brief moment. Just like he’d thought, Niall is warm and soft just like the sun’s rays in the spring.

Niall pulls back, flustered. “Wha-what was that for?” he asks. His entire face has gone red, which is incredibly adorable.

“A token of gratitude,” Zayn smirks. “Don’t you have classes to get to?”

Niall nods, still blushing brightly. Zayn plops back down onto his bed. He sees his mobile on the bedside so he takes it and lets Louis know that he’s still alive but ill and that he needs the rest of the week off. Louis’ reply is quick and cheeky, wishing him well.

He closes his eyes and falls asleep thinking about those warm, innocent blue eyes.

 

 

-

 

 

The entire morning, Niall can’t stop thinking about the kiss he and Zayn shared. He’s never really thought about the types of people he fancies because romance has never been at the forefront of his mind. But now, his mind keeps replaying the scene from earlier and lingers on the part where Zayn’s dark, pillowy lips were resting on his.

Effectively stealing his first kiss.

Okay he’s kissed a couple girls before but that was all during stupid games of spin the bottle and dares. He hasn’t been kissed by someone who genuinely felt something for it. Granted, Zayn claims that he only wanted to show him his gratitude for Niall’s taking care of him but . . .

He bites his lip, trying to suppress the giggle that’s threatening to come out. People would probably think he’s a weirdo if he giggles as the prof is explaining Freud’s theory of ego, id, and super-ego. Well, his id surely wants for Zayn to kiss him again.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?’ Liam whispers. Liam is Niall’s best friend. They met last year in their introductory psychology class and has kept in touch. Their friendship bloomed when they found out that they both worked at the same restaurant just off campus, popular among the university students for romantic dates and such.

“Nothing,” Niall insists. “Just something I remembered.”

Liam ruffles his hair affectionately. “You’re too adorable for your own good, you know that?”

“Yeah, so you tell me alongside with many other people who know me.”

 

 

-

 

 

Zayn is woken by the sound of a door clicking shut and he begrudgingly opens his eyes. He remembers that he’s not at his own flat; that he passed out from a fever last night and consequently, ended up in Niall’s flat.

He also remembers stealing a kiss from Niall a few hours ago.

Which probably freaked the hell out of the kid. Oh shit, what if he kissed a straight, homophobic kid? Dammit, he never was good at controlling his impulses. Fuck! Did he mess up?

“Zayn?” Niall’s voice is right outside the bedroom door. “You awake yet?”

“Yeah,” Zayn answers. He sits up and tries to fix his most-likely unkempt hair. “I am.”

The door opens slowly and Niall’s pokes in his head. “You look so well-rested. I wanted to let you know that dinner is ready.”

“Actually, I should just go,” Zayn says, feeling guilty about the morning.

“No, you should stay. I made enough to feed an entire family and my ma always said to never waste any food. Plus, it’s been ages since I last shared a proper meal with someone.” Niall tries to hide it, but Zayn can hear the tone of wistfulness and loneliness seep into the last sentence.

“Sure,” Zayn complies.

The dinner table is set up with simple things like meat loaf and some steamed vegetables. Normally, Zayn doesn’t eat much meat other than chicken but he would hate to offend Niall in any conceivable way so he eats it all.

“Was it good?” Niall asks as he starts to put the dishes away into the washer.

“Yeah. You’re an alright cook, kid,” Zayn compliments him.

“Thank you,” Niall says, blushing.

“I was thinking . . . this morning when I kissed you, did I freak you out?’” Zayn questions, coming up behind Niall to tuck in a glass.

Niall’s body freezes up. But Zayn can tell that it’s not from being scared or uncomfortable. Is he . . . nervous?

“Um,” Niall draws out the syllable. Zayn takes this opportunity to turn Niall around so that he can look at the blond square in the eye. In the ocean blue eyes, he sees so many emotions swimming up to the surface: embarrassment, uncertainty, curiosity, determination, and something else.

“I,” Niall tries again. “. . . I can’t stop thinking about you and I-I couldn’t think of anything else but your lips and how they felt and I just don’t know— _umf_!”

Zayn leans in slightly so that their lips meet for the second time. Niall’s lips are slack and soft, and it's apparent that Niall doesn’t know what to do. The innocence makes Zayn’s heart go soft with warm, fond feelings. So he tries to be gentle and sweet, not yet licking at the seam of Niall’s lips to get him to open his mouth. But after a couple minutes, Zayn can’t hold himself back. Niall is so warm and welcoming, his small body fitting into the cage of Zayn’s arms perfectly. Niall’s small hands are hanging by his sides aimlessly, unsure of what they should be doing. With a soft smirk, Zayn grasps the pale hands and places them about his hips, and then placing his own hands on the small of Niall’s back.

Niall’s letting out these soft mewling moans as each minute ticks by and Zayn can feel the blond’s heart thudding through their pressed skins. That does nothing to reinforce the self-constraint Zayn has put upon himself. Giving into his basal urges, Zayn lets his tongue snake out to trace the seam of Niall’s delectable lips. The soft sound that he garners is too damn adorable and, well, Zayn only a man; he’s a man who’s got a healthy libido and not that he knows Niall isn’t opposed to this sort of thing, he can’t hold himself back.

Their kisses grow hotter, longer, and more desperate as Zayn maps out the inside of Niall’s mouth with his tongue. For the most part, it feels like Niall is unsure of what is happening outside of the fact that they are snogging. So Zayn decides to takes the matter into his own hands and slowly leans Niall against the sink. He drops to his knees—slow enough so that he doesn’t bruise them—and unzips Niall’s trousers.

“Z-Zayn?” Niall stutters, clearly clueless about what is going to happen. “What’re ya doin’?”

“Repaying you,” Zayn smirks, tugging the zip down and then doing the same to Niall’s white green-striped boxers. He likes the colour green against Niall’s pale, creamy skin, he decides. “Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable with this.”

“Whaddaya mean—ah!”

Zayn has taken Niall’s semi-hard prick into his mouth and that seems to be very effective at silencing the blond. Bobbing his head up, Zayn, traces the ridge around the crown and then takes Niall all the way to the back of his throat again. He swallows around the girth, resisting a satisfied smile when Niall moans loudly and his hips bucks up, ramming a few more centimetres into Zayn’s throat.

“S-sorry— _ngh,_ ” Niall groans, too caught up with the bodily pleasures to apologise properly, not that it matters. Zayn likes a bit of face-fucking anyway, be it that he is on the receiving end or the other.

“You’re too cute, you know that?” Zayn smirks as he pulls off. He wraps his hand around Niall’s hot, leaking cock and starts to pump it slowly. “Too cute that it drives me crazy knowing that you want me just like I want you. Right here,” Zayn kisses Niall’s little tummy—soft and rounded and warm—“and right now.”

All it takes for Niall to come, really, is a calculated swipe of Zayn’s thumb across the tip and it’s a beautiful sight. Niall’s mouth hangs open as his orgasm sweeps throughout his body and his body is drawn tight like a bowstring. Zayn milks out every single drop and even a moment after when he notices that Niall’s cock has begun to go soft. Well, Zayn himself is a bit riled up from this but he can control this. He’s not going to fuck Niall.

Not yet, anyway.

“Th-thank you,” Niall whispers, sounding pretty out of it. _Adorable,_ Zayn thinks, as he caresses Niall’s hand with his clean hand.

“Thank _you_.” he whispers. He stands up and does a quick wash-up by the sink.

It takes a few minutes for Niall to snap back fully into a waking state and when he does, he blushes bright red. He doesn’t seem ashamed or anything, just flustered in that signature cute way of his.

“I should get going now,” Zayn blurts out. “I’ll see you around.”

“G-good night,” Niall says, still looking a bit stunned as Zayn walks out of the doorway, his jacket slung over his shoulder.

 

 

-

 

 

At first, Zayn was hesitant to put a label on what he and Niall are. He is, after all, nine years older than Niall and way more experienced. Niall’s confessed that he’s never been the one to pursue romantic or sexual relationship and it’s surprised Zayn quite a bit because he remembers clearly what he’d been like as a rowdy, horny teenager. He and Louis were quite notorious for it, being the resident players who just played around all the time, leaving behind a trail of broken and empty hearts.

But those days are long behind him. Those days were before he met the most pure-hearted, genuine, and compassionate angelic boy named Niall.

Tonight marks two months of their whatever and Zayn’s booked a dinner at his favourite restaurant that is fairly close to Niall’s school campus. He knows that Niall has a lecture that goes until six so he has reservations for half-six.

“You’re at the restaurant already, aren’t you?” Louis asks at six-twenty.

Zayn frowns at his mobile. “It’s bad manners to be late, Tommo. And don’t you dare say that I’m whipped.”

He can practically hear Louis smirk over the mobile. “I didn’t say nothing, bro. I gotta go, the missus awaits!” Louis promptly hangs up and Zayn is left with the dial tone.

The server comes around to ask if he would like to order something to drink and Zayn tells him that he’ll wait. Niall constantly has this air of unbound kindness and heartfelt friendliness about him that Zayn is drawn to. Some might call him out for being smitten or, as Louis pointed out, whipped. Zayn ponders the idea and doesn’t think it to be appalling. Rather, he is met with a warm, fuzzy feeling that radiates from inside of him, a feeling that had long been foreign to him before meeting Niall.

Niall rushes to their table two minutes past their agreed time. Zayn doesn’t think much of it since he knows just how notorious traffic can get but Niall looks like he might cry any moment.

“Don’t worry about it,” Zayn says sternly before Niall can even open his mouth to apologise. “Life is too short to worry about little hiccoughs and it’s not like you were running around campus flirting up a storm with every cute person in sight,” Zayn can’t help but tease (it’s in his DNA or some shite).

Niall’s pale cheeks redden at an alarming rate and for a brief second, Zayn thinks that he may have gone too far. “Was not! You know that, Zayn. It’s been a while since I’ve even looked at someone and thought that they were fit, and that’s before I found you on the street.” It’s too adorable, the way Niall clamps both of his hands over his mouth shortly after the little outburst.

“Oh?” Zayn arches an eyebrow. Now he’s intrigued. “Was there someone who caught your fancy before me?”

Whether it’s good timing or the worst, the server comes to their table again to take orders. Zayn orders what he usually orders and Niall stammers over his own. As soon as the server walks away, Zayn smiles at Niall.

“We weren’t complete strangers when I took you inside my house, really,” Niall mumbles, cheeks flushed a bright shade of a sunrise as he stares at one spot on the floor.

“Huh?” Zayn asks. “What do you mean by that?”

Niall purses his lips. “Nothing! I wasn’t interested in dating and stuff like everyone else my age is since I’m not quite normal like them or summat. I only focused on school and taking photos for small competitions.”

 

A couple days after the whole fever incident, Zayn had dropped by Niall’s flat with some takeaway. They had stumbled through the getting-to-know-each-other-better stage and Zayn learned that Niall liked taking pictures of pretty much anything. He even had a few camera lens extenders, each for different purposes. Niall shyly admitted to having won a handful of local competitions and being a part of exhibitions around his hometown (after a few minutes of grilling from Zayn). Zayn admired Niall for having such passion for his hobby because he himself didn’t have the luxury of indulging himself in hobbies on a regular basis anymore.

 

“You’re not abnormal,” Zayn comments. He covers Niall’s hand (which has been fiddling with the tableware nervously) and with his own. “Normal is a subjective word and its meaning differs from person to person. As long as you’re you and not pretending to be someone you’re not, you are ‘normal’, at least that’s what I live by.”

“Okay,” Niall murmurs plainly and Zayn smiles in encouragement.

Sometimes, it’s too easy to forget that they are nine years apart in age. Sometimes, the difference is too stark and too present.

 

 

-

 

 

“Y’know, when you call up your friend to discuss a quarter-life crisis, you’re supposed to actually _talk_ about it,” Harry smirks.

Niall glares at his supposed best friend. Harry is the only friend of his who is openly pansexual. When Harry first told him that, Niall had to Google it because he’d had no idea what the word meant.

“When your friend says that he’s having a quarter-life crisis, you’re supposed to come by _alone_ ,” Niall accuses, nodding at Michael, Harry’s boyfriend of more than half a year now, not that he thinks about it.

Niall met Harry during summer on a holiday. Both their families were in Bushmills and they became fast friends. Both of them were chuffed when the found out that they both went to University of London.

Michael waves sarcastically. “I love Harry and I won’t go ‘round babbling your deepest and darkest secrets to everyone, chill.”

The blonde eyes the Aussie wearily. “Fine,” he sighs. “I’minlovewithanoldermanandIdon’tknowifhefeelsthesameway.”

His heart is pounding after the rushed confession, which has left Harry and Michael more than slightly confused.

“Rewind but at like quarter-speed, maybe?” Harry requests.

“I’m . . . ugh. I’ve been seeing this man for a few months now and he’s nine years older than me with a proper job and other grown-up stuff and I’ve fallen for him and I don’t know if he loves me back and—” His rambling is cut off short by Harry’s hand, which is covering Niall’s mouth.

“Ni, breathe,” Harry instructs, and Niall complies. The blooming panic loosens its grip around his lungs and he can breathe somewhat normally. “You know that I will never judge you based on who you fancy and neither will Mikey,” Harry flashes Michael a pointed glare. “If you are in love, that’s great, be it true love or The One or whatever. And it’s also perfectly alright if he’s not in love with you, yet. But having known you for quite some time, I know that he will have to be a total idiot to not love you.” Harry rests his hand on Niall's shoulder, offering comfort, and Niall calms down a wee bit.

 

 

-

 

 

It’s Niall’s day off and after Zayn’s made him dinner, they’ve settled into the bathtub, filling it up with bubbles. He’s noticed it from the first time he’s seen Zayn but Zayn . . . he always carries this air of maturity and authority around him. He is so charismatic, is the thing and Niall both admires and is intimidated by that trait. And his shoulders are so broad and strong, sharply defined with muscles that Niall can only daydream about. And Zayn’s lips, they always kiss Niall with sureness and passion that can only stem from experience and confidence that Niall lacks.

“What’s wrong?” Zayn’s gentle, deep voice shakes him out of his little reverie. He scoots forwards in the bathtub, and the action only serves as a sharp reminder to Niall that they are starkers and in close proximity of each other. Granted, it’s not the first time that they’ve seen each other naked but it doesn’t help with his feeling like a child.

“It’s . . . I just wanna hurry up and become a grown-up already,” Niall confesses.

The corner of Zayn’s lips curls up a fraction. “What’s your definition of being a grown-up? You’re legally an adult living on his own, out and about to explore the world inside and outside of university. That, to me, is the definition of being all grown-up.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Niall mumbles as he face-plants into Zayn’s chest, wrapping his arms around his warm, wide back.

Zayn presses his lips to the top of his head, making an exaggerated kissy sound. “You will someday.”

Niall pouts. That’s exactly what he needs! A generic, grown-up reply to his honest-to-god admission. He shuffles forwards even more until his and Zayn’s bodies are pressed tightly together and he is sat on Zayn’s lap. He raises his head and kisses Zayn smack on his luscious lips, nipping at them lightly.

“Then treat me like one,” he demands. _Shit, am I being counter-productive by being all petulant?_ he ponders.

He doesn’t get the chance to mull it over further because next thing he knows, Zayn is kissing him back senseless and Niall has to focus on not accidentally submerging himself in the water in the bout of their kissing. Zayn’s too skilled as per usual but there’s something else tonight. Niall can feel something akin to desperation through their kisses and it’s utterly befuddling. Why would Zayn be desperate . . . oh.

He’s thought about sex before, of course he has. But he’s never considered the possibility of two guys doing the deed. Is that even possible? Men don’t really have anything for . . . that.

“Zayn,” he manages in the brief moment that Zayn breaks their kiss to move onto Niall’s jugular. “How do two guys . . . ehm, do it?”

Zayn detaches his mouth from Niall’s neck as though he’s been electrified and Niall’s stomach drops. He’s gone and ruined the mood, hasn’t he.

“I . . . fuck. You really _are_ innocent,” Zayn mutters. “Don’t take it as an insult, please don’t, Nialler. It’s a compliment, trust me. I . . .” Zayn trails off, eyes staring right into Niall’s.

He cups the side of Niall’s face and pulls him in until their foreheads are touching. “You love me, right? And you won’t be scared away when I tell you that I’m in love with you?” Zayn tilts Niall’s chin upwards so that they are seeing eye-to-eye now. There’s no way that Niall can avoid the truth here.

“I l-lo—I love y-you,” he stutters.

Zayn kisses lays a swift, chaste kiss on his lips. And then, he says: “I’m in love with you, Niall James Horan.” The kisses slowly veer off to Niall’s jawline, then to his neck, then back up. “And I wanna show you just how much I love you. That is, if you will let me.”

Niall has never said yes so fast in his life.

 

 

-

 

 

The doorbell rings and Niall jogs over to the door without checking the peephole. It’s Zayn and he is holding a medium-sized gift box in his hands. That’s not what’s commanding his attention, though, not entirely. Zayn is wearing a suit and underneath the black jacket, a vest with dappled-light pattern that looks like it’s glowing under the cheap fluorescent lights. Niall has seen Zayn in suits plenty of times before but it’s vastly different tonight. Niall is floored and he just wants to kiss Zayn right here and now. (A small part of him wonder what business function required that Zayn wear a properly formal outfit.)

So he does. Zayn indulges him by kissing back for a few moments before he pushes Niall away gently with the mystery box.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Niall,” he greets with a grin. “I know you said not to do anything outrageous and I promise you, this is nothing like the getaways I’ve mentioned.” Niall opens his mouth to protest but Zayn silences with a single finger upon his lips. “Don’t talk; see it first.”

Niall obliges with a pout. The wrapping paper is metallic and Irish green, his favourite colour. (The white and orange bow on top is perfect and he’s glad that Zayn didn’t go with the ‘traditional’ pink and red hearts explosion.) Inside the box is another the box with the picture of a Sony A6000 on it.

“Zayn!” Niall half-shouts. “You can’t go around buying me a pricey camera!” He skims over the words on the damned thing and does a double-take. “Especially not the ones that come with the OSS Power Zoom lens!”

“But I want to,” Zayn replies with a carefree shrug. “I love you and I remember you eyeing this when we walked past cameras the other week. I know that you take photography seriously and want to encourage you in any way possible, which happens to be buying you something that you’ve been wanting for a while. You know I’m not trying to buy your affections,” Zayn winks. “And you haven’t even noticed the second part of my present.”

Niall notices that there is a rectangular object at the bottom of the gift box, all lumpy and wrapped in green wrapping paper. Zayn picks it up and hands it to Niall, exchanging the camera box for it.

The second present turns out to be a picture frame made out of canvas. Every space on the canvas is filled with drawings of all types—from cartoon-like to real life stills to abstract—and Niall recognises that they are all scenes from their relationship. One of them is a neat sketch of Zayn kissing Niall on the cheek and the only colour in it is a smudge of pink on the spot where Zayn is kissing Niall, shaped vaguely like a heart. The frame is sectioned off with variously sized sections so that he can fill it with several different photographs.

“Did you decorate the frame yourself?” Niall blurts out, throat blocked with something he can’t put a finger on.

“Yeah. It’s been a while so it’s not my best work.” Zayn takes Niall’s free hand and walks over to the wall where Niall’s photographs are displayed. “I want to fill this up with the best of our memories together,” Zayn explains, pointing at the frame. “I know it hasn’t been that long since we started dating and I also know that our different standings will be the cause of many disputes in our future. But I want a forever with you as long as it makes you happy. I want you to be mine and I also want to be yours.” Zayn smirks and it looks self-deprecating to Niall. “I guess I’m a good-for-nothing man soaked in possessiveness.”

“You talk like being possessive about someone you love is always a bad thing,” Niall half-questions. “I—I don’t mind it. I’m hopelessly in love with you too and want a forever with you! It doesn’t matter if other people end up breaking my heart over us ‘cause I know you’ll put it back together.”

Zayn lets out a long sigh, which ends with a chuckle. “You’re making it worse, or maybe it’s better. I can’t help wanting to drown you in my love when you say things like that, Niall.”

Niall lifts his eyes and meets Zayn’s with a confidence he has never known he had. “Then do it. Drown me with your love. You’ve been holding yourself back, haven’t you? So do it.”

His answer comes in the form of a light kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’re unbelievable in so many good ways. Someday, I’ll spend hours describing why. That’s a promise.”

 

 

-

 

 

“Where’d you put the kitchen appliances?” Niall yells over his shoulder. Zayn scans at the unruly piles of packing boxes near the entrance of his house.

“Uhm, I think they’re still in the lorry. I’ll go check,” he calls out as he jogs outside the front door.

 

It’s been more than a year since the night Niall nursed him back to health. (Fourteen months and twenty days, to be exact.) It’s taken massive accounts of arguments, reasoning, bribes, and coercion (or romancing his way out of relationship strains, more like) to have Niall agree to living together. Zayn has always felt lonely living in his unnecessarily large house by himself and he already felt better with just Niall’s stuff littering the first floor of their house.

It’s also been a long six months since they decide to tell their parents about their relationship. The response they had received was mostly positive. Granted, Niall’s family needed more time to grow used to the fact that Niall was in a committed relationship an older man but after the adjustment period, both families came to love one another and the couple.

Zayn smiles as he recalls the first time they visited Mullingar together to meet Niall’s parents. Niall had been a nervous wreck the entire time and had convinced himself that his parents would disown him for dating a man and thought up all sorts of nonsense. It was to the point that he shied away from Zayn’s physical touches regardless of intention. Once he became clear that his family was supportive, however, Niall let down his guard and even apologised for acting ‘all cold an’ like a stupid kid again’. Zayn pretty much spent the entire night assuring Niall that he hadn’t been hurt of remotely offended in any conceivable way.

 

“You got my beddings too, brill!” Niall beams as he takes the boxes from Zayn’s arms.

“Of course I did. You were adamant on having your own bedroom, which still seems silly to me.”

Niall’s cheeks turn rosy instantly and Zayn chuckles to himself. “I know, I know. I’ll back off.” He takes the box with beddings and sets it down on top of the pile. “There’s at only three boxes left outside but they’re the extra-large ones. I think we need a quick break from all the hard labour we’ve been doing all morning.”

It’s adorable that Niall cottons on to what Zayn is hinting at after a couple of seconds tick past. “And here I thought I was the horny teenager,” Niall smirks.

“I’m always insatiable when it comes to you, Nialler. Forever and ever.”

He doesn’t warn Niall before he scoops him up bridal-style and heads towards a sofa in the lounge.  In front of the sofa, there's a coffee table.  The hand-decorated picture frame that Zayn has given Niall on Valentine's sits upon it and one of the picture is that of Niall kissing Zayn on the cheek in the rain.  (That day had meant be a picnic at the outskirts of London but the weather nearly ruined it.) It was also the day when Zayn finally convinced Niall to move in with him so there's that.

“Zayn!” Niall yelps out. “How many times do I have to tell you not to do this without asking first? Informed consent is real important, y’know.”

Zayn drops Niall on the sofa. “You’ll have to remind me why, then.” He glowers at Niall’s crumpled t-shirt. “In about half an hour’s time.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a _looooooooooong_ while since I last wrote Ziall so feedback (positive or negative) is always welcome! And also, I self-beta 99% of the time so don’t be shy to point out any inconsistencies or grammatical/punctuation errors either ^_^


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